Page 21 of Remote Access
They hurried across the field and through the open gate.
“Never leave your point of entry open like this,” Lane muttered as he walked to a corner and peeked around it. “What amateurs. Maybe it’s not Hayrick’s people.”
Something crashed and Quincy automatically pulled Lane behind him and palmed his gun.
“Smaller doesn’t mean I need protecting. You know that, right?”
“Being fired didn’t turn off years of police training, Lane.”
“Oh,” he said, voice low. “I hadn’t thought of that. Now it’s kind of hot.”
Shocked Lane could bring a smile to his lips, Quincy just crept onward, keeping close to the walls and in as many shadowed areas as he could spot.
“His unit is around this next corner.” Quincy stopped and peeked around the brick. He put his hand behind him to halt Lane. "You were right. Someone's there," he whispered.
"Can you see who? Did Hayrick come back already?" His warm body pressed into Quincy's back.
He couldn't believe he was getting turned on in this kind of situation either, but there it was—his dick perking up again. Glad Lane couldn't see the roll of his eyes, he leaned to peer around the corner. "It's just one person and he's moving slowly—like he doesn't feel well." Light from an overhead lamp hit the guy and Quincy shook his head. "It's the same man from the house. He's in a cast. Looks like he's alone."
"Let me guess. He's loading up boxes."
"Yep."
Lane nudged him. "You’ve got a gun. We can take him again."
"We? Again? I took him the first time."
"Wow, I can't believe how dirty that sounds." Lane snorted. "And how I'm strangely turned on by the thought of watching you take someone."
"Well, it wouldn't be him." Quincy curled his lip. "Not my type."
The silence lasted a beat, then two. "What's your type?"
"I'm starting to think it's short, bendy thieves," Quincy shot back before pulling his gun and sneaking into the alley. The guy had gone into the storage unit, giving them an opportunity to move. He glanced over his shoulder to see Lane following, but staring at him with wide eyes. His grin, totally inappropriate for this situation, wouldn't be dampened.
Fuck, the kid was cute.
He hurried to the front of the van Hayrick's thug was using and crouched. Lane, who moved silently—probably from years of practice—did the same. Before Quincy stood, Lane halted him with a hand on his arm. He met his gaze.
"Be careful." He mouthed the words silently, but his eyes were full of loud emotion.
Quincy stared at him a moment, then stood and held up his gun. "Why don’t you go ahead and put that box back down?”
The files thudded to the concrete, but the guy ducked and disappeared around the van.
"Stay down," he ordered Lane.
"Dude, I'm not a damsel in distress here. Not that I know any damsels. Most of the women I know are kick-ass."
"We can discuss sexism in survival situations when I get back.” Quincy smirked. A movie quoteheknew for once.
“Oooh, nice,” Lane hissed.
Despite the danger, amusement rolled through him. "I don't think you're a damsel." The shot that rang out made him drop back down. He hadn’t planned to discharge his gun. "This idiot just woke half the fucking town."
Without time to waste, Quincy crouched and looked under the van only to meet the eyes of the guy in the back doing the same. They both brought their guns around, but that asshole aimed at Lane. The panic that streaked through him stunned him, but he shot first and didn't wait to see what he hit when the guy started cursing and fired again. “Lane! You okay?"
"Yeah. He missed." Lane scrambled up and opened the driver's door to climb inside.
